


Omegas Gone Wild

by SailorChibi



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alpha!Sherlock, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Bondage, M/M, Omega!John, light dub con due to hormones
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-15
Updated: 2012-08-15
Packaged: 2017-11-12 05:44:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/487370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SailorChibi/pseuds/SailorChibi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Omegas have to be tied down during the beginning of their heat so that they don't hurt themselves on their alpha's cock. John can't stand it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Omegas Gone Wild

**Author's Note:**

> Sherlock belongs to Moffat, Gatiss, and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.
> 
> For a [prompt](http://sherlockbbc-fic.livejournal.com/19743.html?thread=119459871) on the kink meme.

It always starts the same way. He begins to feel a little warm, not unlike the way he does when he's sick with the beginning of a fever. His skin becomes flushed and anyone looking at him who doesn’t know he was an omega would think he was ill. He starts to feel restless, almost, like staying still is nearly impossible, and yet the thought of moving is equally reprehensible. There's an itch underneath his skin that originates at the base of his spine and spreads out, hardening his cock as a miniscule amount of fluid collects around the rim of his anus.

He knows that it's starting, just like he knows he'll ignore it until the last possible moment, especially now.

"You're an idiot, Anderson, honestly. Sometimes I wonder how you managed to make it this far in life."

" _Sherlock_. Less insulting, more deducing, yeah?"

"Fine. You're looking for a middle aged man."

"And how do you know that?"

"You would know it too if you had bothered to - "

The sudden silence is enough to make John look up. His heart rate instantly increases when he realizes that Sherlock is staring at him. Sherlock's eyes are wide, his pupils dilating slightly as his nostrils flare, scenting the change. John swears inwardly when he notices that he's standing upwind of Sherlock, meaning that he never had a hope in hell of being able to hide this. He’s lucky that it took Sherlock this long to catch on.

"Middle aged man," Sherlock repeats, snapping out of his momentary daze and looking back at Lestrade. "Black hair, works as a chef, likely at a bakery because he's having difficulty finding a job in a restaurant. Uses too much garlic. As a baker he uses too much sugar."

"How is that supposed to - oi! Where are you going?"

"I've given you what you need. Piece the rest together yourself." Sherlock doesn't break stride. In a matter of seconds he has one warm hand on the small of John's back and is pushing John along, ushering him in the direction of the road. John goes only because he knows Sherlock isn't above physically picking him up and carrying him if need be.

"It's not that far along," John says crossly as Sherlock summons a taxi. Of course, one pulls up to the kerb right away. It's bloody annoying at the best of times and right now, well, he can't resist giving the cabbie a poisonous look.

Sherlock ignores him. "221 Baker Street," he tells the cabbie and then pulls his phone out. He begins sending texts while John sulks, staring moodily out the window. Now that they're away from a distraction, now that Sherlock is so damn close with his damn alpha scent, he can feel the trickle between his thighs worsening. He squirms against the seat, uncomfortable, and tugs at the collar of his shirt. It's hot.

The drive seems to go too fast and take forever at the same time, which is an odd paradox that he's not really up to thinking about. He's burning up now, past the point of just being a bit warm, and beads of sweat are rolling down his forehead. His stomach is cramping and he feels nauseous, sticky and dizzy. Sherlock pays the cabbie as John climbs out and then, once they’re both out, he puts his hand on John's back again, this time to steady him rather than to hurry him along. John hangs his head and groans.

"Sherlock, I don't feel well," he says. This is always the worst of it and he hates it almost as much as he hates what come next.

"I know you do, John. Come on. You'll feel better soon." Sherlock's voice is low and soothing. He gets John upstairs into their flat without incident and closes and locks the door. John stands in the middle of the room and shivers when Sherlock turns to him.

"Please don't," he pleads, backing up a little. "Please. I can handle it this time, I swear."

"We both know you can't."

"I can! Give me a chance."

"John, this is for your own good."

"No, Sherlock. Please!"

He turns, intending to run even though there's nowhere to go, but Sherlock's anticipated this. He's behind John in a split second and strong arms come around John's waist, lifting him off the floor. John tries to fight but he feels so very weak and each punch is half-hearted at best, missing the target by several inches. A piteous moan is his only protest as Sherlock carries him into their bedroom and gently strips him down. Once he's naked, Sherlock sets him down on the bed.

"Please don't," John says again. 

"Shh, John." Sherlock takes his left wrist and buckles it to the headboard using the strong leather cuffs they purchased especially for this. He does the same with John's right wrist and then tightens the cuffs until John can only lie there helplessly, whimpering. Sherlock strokes his hair comfortingly and kisses his forehead. "I'll be right back."

It's against Sherlock's very nature to leave John now, when his heat is only just beginning, but Sherlock knows that John hates anyone seeing him this way, even his alpha. It mortifies him that he has to be tied up like an animal to avoid hurting himself. So Sherlock stands up and leaves and John is alone, and he's not so sure that's better after all.

Time passes in slow, hazy increments. The cramping in his stomach grows worse until he's curled up into a foetal position as best he can. His thighs are slick and the sheets are damp from the fluid that won't stop leaking out of him; his cock is fully erect and juts proudly away from his body. And it's hot, so hot he can hardly bear it, so hot that he's pretty sure that someone must have set him on fire without his notice. It just gets worse and worse, and at one point - he's not really sure when - the cramping is taken over by an itch deep inside, one that burns and throbs and demands attention and oh god _it’s going to tear him apart he can’t stand it_.

John thrashes uselessly against the cuffs and lets out a wail. Instantly there are cool hands caressing his face in a comforting way and a deep voice calming him. A soothing scent envelops him and he opens his eyes, struggling for breath, something primal and instinctive recognizing his alpha.

"I'm right here," Sherlock murmurs. He's naked and his cock is erect. John looks at it and whines eagerly, struggling against the restraints, knowing that relief is tantalizingly close. 

"Easy, John. I'm just going to check to make sure you're ready this time. I don't want you to hurt yourself again." Long fingers part his arse cheeks and then one slides between, easing into the searing heat. John arches his back and moans at the sensation of being filled by something, _anything_ , but it's not enough. A brief second or two of bliss is eradiated by crushing disappointment as the itch throbs that much deeper, taunting him.

"Sherlock," he chokes out, his breathing catching on a sob. "I can't, please. I can't." His hips move all on their own, twisting and writhing against the sheets. If he could get free he would impale himself on Sherlock's cock and fuck the man until both of them are satisfied. He pants and renews his struggle, because surely if he pulls hard enough the cuffs will give way - 

"John." Sherlock kneels on the bed and pins his hips down easily. "Listen to me. I'm here, I'm going to give you what you need, but you have to stay with me. Focus on my voice, alright?"

"Yes, yes, alright, yes, just please - " He breaks off into a wild keening as he feels the tip of Sherlock's cock nudging against his entrance. Slowly, agonizingly slowly, Sherlock shifts forward. His cock breaches John's body, pushing easily into the slick hole. John's eyes flutter shut as he uselessly tries to press down, wanting Sherlock to move faster, but no - Sherlock keeps a firm grip on his hips, controlling the pace, edging forward an inch at a time.

"God, John," he groans as his balls come to rest against John's arse. It's the first hint that Sherlock's control is taking a pounding and John feels stretched to the breaking.

"Now, please, yes? Please, Sherlock, please!"

"Yes, now." Sherlock's voice emerges as a guttural growl. In one smooth movement he pulls back and then pushes back in, never losing his hold, keeping the rhythm on his terms. John doesn't care. He throws his head back and moans as the itch disappears little by little, scratched out of existence. He wiggles and throws his head back, the cuffs chafing against his wrists.

"Sherlock," he moans. The first time never lasts long. He feels like he'll burst if he doesn't come soon. It actually hurts and his desperation shows. "Sherlock, please."

Sherlock grunts and begins moving quicker, thrusting so hard that John is actually sliding back and forth across the sheets. His knot is beginning to swell. Normally omegas aren't advised to take the knot during the first mating of a heat, but John wants it every time and this is no exception. John shoves down with a low cry, trying to get more pressure deeper where he needs it, and Sherlock obliges. With one last growl he thrusts hard, forcing his knot inside as his orgasm washes over him.

John howls as Sherlock's knot pops into his body. Warm seed begins painting his insides and as the last of that damnable itch _finally_ disappears his own orgasm is set free. His toes curl and he arches uselessly, unable to move between Sherlock and the cuffs. A few ribbons of come paint the air and Sherlock groans as the sight of his omega in the middle of coming sets off another orgasm. He shifts his hips and pants under his breath as his cock spurts again and again, sealing his come deep inside of John. John opens his glazed eyes at the feeling.

"Sherlock," he says shakily. 

He almost sounds like he's going to cry. Sherlock leans down, stretching carefully across his omega's body, and pets John's hair, murmuring softly to him. It's one of the few times when he can allow himself to be gentle and affectionate because he knows John needs it so much. And it won't last long - the heat will be on John in a matter of minutes, possibly an hour if they're both lucky - but in the meantime, they can both enjoy it.


End file.
